


If You Must

by Lylygylt



Category: Pocket Monsters: Sun & Moon | Pokemon Sun & Moon Versions
Genre: Apologies for a stupid first chapter, Canon Compliant, Character Tags To Be Added - Freeform, Eventual Relationships, Foreshadowing, Game Spoilers, Gen, Long, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rating May Change, Slow Build, Symbolism, and removed, but not yet, eventually
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-02
Updated: 2017-01-02
Packaged: 2018-09-13 02:42:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9102919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lylygylt/pseuds/Lylygylt
Summary: Moon. The night, as you know, is a time of much sadness, and a deeply hidden tranquility. Within layer upon layer of horror, in back alleys and deathbeds, something is peaceful.It isn't because the night is silent.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This work is a memoir of sorts, recollections of my own thoughts, experiences, and elusive dreams. I struggle to understand their meaning, and yet, something is good about that. I draw inspiration from the unsorted beauty of such things, and here they are placed. Within the written word - or, perhaps, the typed. You get the point. Let it be fully understood that this work is written blind. I haven't a clue what happens further along in this game (I've heard tell that there are emotions. May the good Lunala spare me,) and I have no desire to know until I have experienced it.
> 
> On that note, I thank you deeply for your time and hope you will deign to share a bit more of it with me than you'd expected, because we are in for the long haul. The word is worth more to me than one could ever know.
> 
> Let us begin.

Moon had been through a lot, really. It was to be expected that whatever came her way would send ripples. The aftershocks of painful things, fighting themselves in a futile attempt to be something they were not - something easy to get over, and something even remotely beneficial. But, she digressed. No aftershock was any worse than an original. A lesson learned by experience in flinching.

When one flinches, they put up a defense against something. The word is usually used in the context of something that never comes.

Something coming upon you for the first time would not cause you to flinch.

The aftershocks are flinches - you expect it everywhere, and prepare to meet it, yet it never comes back at full force.

* * *

Today, she sits contentedly in the window, watching a midday sun. 6 years old, wiser than her age, pondering and planning and poking fun with her new little brother of 2. And with her older brother - though, at 10, he's only sometimes seen. Her parents are out of the picture - it doesn't seem to matter where they are.

Beat.

The aforementioned toddler is somewhere, doing as toddlers will do, it seems. The aforementioned elder brother is caught up in his own duties, perhaps. Whatever the situation, Moon sits here, and it is perfectly okay in her small world.

What a sight to behold.

Deep, clouded eyes of a striking blue are the center of attention for a flushed face framed by a long, black waterfall of hair. Black-rimmed - or is it a deep purple? - glasses rest upon that face, and it makes a picture so interesting for one of her young age. She's proud, ever so proud, of those glasses. 

Beat.

* * *

We see, now, an older Moon, and in a different place. Her face has changed a bit - the beloved glasses are gone, and her eyes seem somehow dulled. Perhaps it's the contact lenses she must have. The house isn't the same, but she seems still remarkably alright and calm, if a bit distant. The family has moved, one can guess. No hint as to why.

Huh.

She's outside right now, and at night. The rest of the family is sleeping. An item to her right, too darkly-colored for it to be made out, is the object of her attention, and an enigmatic, fond smile slips past her at it. She loves it, whatever it is. 

Beat.

A twinkling sound can be heard in passing, over the sound of the breeze, and perhaps there's a passing sigh from Moon. The atmosphere and scene befit her name and nature to the T.

There is no T in Moon, one can note with a chuckle.

* * *

A different place again, and she's not much older. Why the family keeps moving is slightly mysterious, perhaps worrying, but the atmosphere is the same as previously. A glass bottle of some kind, unlabeled, rests on the table, next to the same too-dark object we saw previously. Moon sits on a bed, staring out the window at her namesake.

What a strange world.

The bottle's contents are transparent in all rights, tinted only mildly in a shade of deep indigo. The dark object appears to shine. Moon glances at it occasionally, or rises up to fuss over it. It still brings a smile to her face.

Beat.

Moon is a bit paler than before, and her eyes are yet duller - contact lenses get old over time. She may be sick, or perhaps she's stayed in a bit too long unpacking. Her lips are chapped. Yet, the frail girl is content.

An inspiration, one's mind whispers without context or meaning.

* * *

We find Moon this fourth time in the same situation as before. The bottle's contents are slightly depleted, and the dark object is shinier. The bedroom is different again. Perhaps her parents must travel. The same faint sound from the second scene is heard again, and it visibly relaxes her. Her eyes are... tired, perhaps. Nights spent like this aren't the healthiest.

...Beat.

A half-finished puzzle is resting on the same table, as well as some incense that's been snuffed. She avoids that end of the table actively, though moonlight does occasionally glint on pieces of something on the floor and table.

She scratches her back a lot, one notes absently.

* * *

The fifth scene. Moon is simply lying in bed here, still awake and not looking at the moon. The bottle is half-empty, and the dark object has gotten shinier again. Out the window this time is a multitude of lights.

What an amazing place to live.

There are a few things unpacked around the room - which has changed again - and it suggests she hasn't been here long.

Beat.

* * *

This time, she works on the object with the nearly-empty bottle with a fervor. She isn't quite smiling. They've moved again.

The bottle was half-full before - beat.

* * *

We see her in a house remarkably similar to the first, final drops of bottle drained, and object with a luster. We can't see what she's doing, but she's outside in this night and shaking from cold. Something else is being applied to the object now, and it's shiny as it makes borders around the object. Rectangular, and being attached - reattached? - to some sort of book.

Hm.

Each page, now, is being painstakingly bordered and numbered with the substance. The color isn't quite distinguishable, but it seems bright. The twinkling, surreal sound passes by and her unhurried work is paused as she closes her eyes. They're tired more than they were before.

One wants to protect the girl.

She closes the book late into the night and applies the substance one last time. A small and contented sigh is let out as she smiles and writes clear, impeccable words onto the object - the book cover. They haven't been over-simplified, made into a gimmick, or made fancy by too many curlicues - each line trails into the border somehow, a beautiful shining web.

'Wind Chimes.'

* * *

Moon is in a moving van, today, clutching a small bag - containing what are supposedly prized possessions of hers.

You can practically hear the thought: "Here we go."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
